Do You Have a Prescription for That?
by kkolmakov
Summary: Thorin Oakenshield and his Queen need to travel in Time and Space to fix a tear in the fabric of reality, it's a timey wimey thing, but do they know each other well enough to help their later reincarnations to reach their happily ever after? She is bossy, he is cantankerous, and time didn't change it! *No Infringement Intended*
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: And here comes another idea! Barmy as ever :) It is planned as a three-chapter fic in my head: this one, plus one for Wren, one for Thorin, and an epilogue. What do you think, my lovelies? **

**I understand that this one might have a limited audience! Don't feel you are obliged to understand what all ****this ****mental rattling is all about :D**

The King's lips are sliding down the neck of his wife, he is pulling at the low cut of her undertunic, the bodice of her velvet dress already unlaced and pooling around her waist. She is arching her back, dropping her head back, allowing him better access to the pale skin of her cleavage. His lips find the swell of her small breasts, and she moans throatily.

"Haban… Zundush… My glorious, gentle Wren..." He is supporting her under her shoulder blades, not allowing her to fall back, lifting her limp upper body to his greedy lips. She treads her fingers into his ebony mane, argent strands glistening in the rays of the setting sun.

"Oh Thorin..." She breathes out and twists, lunging up and catching his mouth. Hands roam bodies, lips dance, and neither of them hears a strange humming noise at the background. It becomes louder, as if the second layer of the same noise covers the first one. The King pushes his wife on the blanket stretched on the ground, blindly shoving the picnic basket away, bottles of wine and apples rolling out of it, when a delicate cough makes him jerk his head and put his palm on the hilt of his sword carelessly thrown on the grass near him.

"I am so sorry to bother the two of you, but honestly how do you breathe doing this? Through your ears?" The King shields his wife, who is hurried pulling up the bodice of her dress, and stares at the men in front of him. They are both quite obviously of Men, one very tall, astonishingly slender, in a strange garb with stripes going along his lanky body, and the strangest hair the king has ever seen in his life. It sticks up and falls ahead like the feathers of the cardinal bird. The one who spoke is only slightly shorter, wearing a jacket and a pair of very narrow trousers, and a strange cravat that looks like a butterfly. Thorin slowly pulls the sword towards him, rising without tearing his eyes from the strangers.

"Your majesty," the gaunt one lifts his hands in a universal gesture of surrender, "We came in peace. We are here to..." He looks at the second one obviously asking for support.

"We came to ask for help. You see, there is a time paradox..."

"It's a timey wimey thing, hard to explain, but you two can help us," the lanky one interferes.

"You should stop interrupting me!" The butterfly cravat one turns to him. "We need to establish protocol between us. Let me explain to them, I am quite obviously better at this."

"What? You? Which one of us had an encounter with the Great Intelligence and did not manage to convince them to surrender? Literally, pure intelligence, and you did not manage to explain to them the motivation of your actions!"

"Which one of us married Queen Elizabeth the First thinking she was a zygon?"

While they are arguing, Thorin pulls out his sword out of the scabbard and slowly moves the Queen behind his back.

"My lord, they do not look very hostile," the Queen whispers, "Rather muddled in my opinion, but hardly dangerous." The King throws a look at her over her shoulder, quite obviously with male superiority.

"Let me see to this, kurdu." She snorts and steps from around him.

"Kind sirs, if you could stop bickering…" The strange men continue their exchange. "Honestly, you are worse than my children... Attention!" She is at least a foot shorter than both of them, but the fists pressed into her hips and the firm tone make them both grow silent and stare at her.

"Perhaps I should speak, I have experience with royalty," says the taller one with his hair sticking up in an astonishing disarray.

"First hand experience," the second one mumbles under his breath and receives a disdainful stare from the tall one.

"Your majesty," the striped one steps forward and stretches his hand. The King Under the Mountain shifts towards them, but the Queen throws him a warning stare over her shoulder and puts her fingers on his palm. "Your majesty, my name is the Doctor, I am a time traveller..."

"Are we supposed to tell it to them straightforward though?" The second one flails his arms in the air in exasperation, "You will frighten them."

"Not Queen Zundushinh," the one calling himself the Doctor murmured thoughtfully, his brown eyes locked with the green slanted ones of the Queen of Erebor. He presses her knuckles to his lips, and she smiles to him and shakes her head.

"You should release my hand, kind sir, before my husband chops yours off." The tall man steps back releasing her hand, in a slow motion, the tips of his fingers brushing her palm. "You were saying..."

"My name is the Doctor, and this is also the Doctor, which does not matter..."

"I do matter!" The second one interrupts and steps ahead with a stubborn pout, but then he catches the eyes of the Queen and smiles to the small woman.

"Of course you do, kind sir," the Queen's tone is mollifying, and he prims up. "Are you also a time traveller?"

"The one and only. Well, technically the one and the eleventh, but that is the question of perception. Considering he kept the face twice, and there is the one that didn't count before, but counts now..."

"I have to agree with you, kurdu, they are clearly muddled," the King's sarcastic tone makes the shorter man stop on his tracks, trailing away his mad rambling. The Queen turns and gives her husband a soft smile. _Let me decide myself, I am clearly a better judge of character, _her eyes say. The twitch of his brow is a clear answer for her. _Help yourself. _

The taller Doctor rolls his eyes, "That is why I wanted to do the talking. Your majesty," he addresses Thorin and bows slightly, "the Doctor, at your service." Thorin slightly nods in return.

"Thorin, son of Thrain, at yours." The King looks completely relaxed, leaning on his sword, but the Queen can see that he is ready to pounce at the men in front of him at any instant necessary. He is just allowing her to have her fun.

"And this is my associate, the Doctor. A mere coincidence..." The man with strange hair clears his throat and looks at the Queen again. "We are time travellers, and we came here for help." She tilts her head and looks at him attentively.

"You are not lying," her voice is soft, and he slightly nods.

"The famous intuition of Thorin's Wren..." He murmurs and smiles to her widely. "We are going to need it! We have a universe to save and a marriage to arrange, we will need your amazing talents, my lady." She looks at him in merry disbelief.

"Tell her about the intertwining timelines, I like that bit." The second Doctor chimes in.

"My lady, you and your husband are a fixed point in space and time, meaning no matter how circumstances change and no matter how the world around us fluctuates, you two always have to end up together, the two of you are like… the Earth and the Sun, like the day and the night, you are always supposed to meet and couple with each other..." He gestures madly in the air intertwining his long fingers.

"I beg your pardon?" A low growl of the King makes the lanky Doctor freeze with his mouth half open. The King is clenching the hilt of his Elven blade.

"Oh great," the second Doctor quips, "You made him angry. We do not want him angry, we need them to cooperate. Let me try," he steps ahead and puts his hands up splaying his fingers.

"Here we go, the flailing," the first Doctor snorts.

"The two of you are each other's destiny. You are to be together, your shared fate goes through the fabric of the universe, through times and space, like a thread through real fabric, holding it together." His eyes are shiny, and he wiggles his fingers. "If a threat snaps, the fabric will start falling apart. And here you are, at the very beginning of your path, the very first Wren and Thorin, with all your regenerations, so to speak, ahead of you, and you need to help us, because something went wrong, and your thread is lost, and from this it is..."

"Like a ladder in silk," the Queen finishes, her eyes widened, and he grins to her.

"Yowzah!" They are looking at each other smiling. "Oh glorious Wren! I would kiss you right now but it won't agree with your husband, I suppose. He'll chop off my head, and I like my head."

"Do you understand any of that, zundush?" The King's tone is apprehensive, he is reaching the limit of his patience.

She turns to him and explains in soft, pacifying tone, "They claim that the destiny of the world depends on our love, my lord."

The King snorts and answers in a derisive tone, although there is underlying tenderness in his tone, "Then the world is safe. Was there any particular reason these wizards had to interrupt our picnic?"

She chuckles and turns to the Doctor in a strange cravat, "Tell me about the ladder."

"Some time in the far away future in a completely different land the two of you didn't... happen. You both lived and your paths crossed, but something went wrong, and now the fabric of reality is getting torn apart. We cannot interfere because the two of you are the fixed point in time, meaning nothing can be altered, but on the other hand, it has to be corrected. So we thought that the two of you actually could."

"I think I have had enough of this mad rattling. And it is time to return to the Mountain, my lady." The King picks up his doublet from the ground and peevishly asks his wife, "Do you need me to help you with the lacing, my heart?" A doubt is written on the face of the Queen, and she looks at the taller Doctor.

"You will have to provide us with a valid argument, kind sirs. Perhaps a proof or a prophecy of sorts."

"Zundush, they have obviously had too much ale..." The King's grouchy remark is cut short by the second Doctor rising his hand with a strange metal rod with a green light glowing in its end, and a strange screeching noise erupts from it. And then the King and his small wife make a few frightened steps back when a strange wooden box appears in front of them, bright blue, with notices in an unknown language and a small window in its front door.

"The TARDIS," the shorter Doctor announces, as if introducing a very important guest.

"Time and Relative Dimension in Space," the tall Doctor adds with warmth in his tone. "A time machine." The Queen steps ahead first, but her husband grabs her arm.

"Zundush..."

"It is harmless, my King," the redhead's tone is soft and distant. "It is old, and powerful, and a bit of a flirt, is she not?" She touches the wood of the door and smiles.

The tall Doctor snaps his fingers, and the door opens.

"Oh, here comes the line! I love the line!" The cravat Doctor is clenching his fists in anticipation like an overexcited toddler. The Queen peeks in and gasps.

"It is bigger on the inside!" The butterfly cravat Doctor mouths with her words. Her tone is exuberant, and he giggles.

"Yes!"

The King rushes to his wife, but stops near her staring inside the blue box.

"And to think of it, it looked like an outhouse..." The King murmurs awed.

"Oi!" Both Doctors shout at the same time.

"Show some respect!" The one with mad hair says. The King tears his eyes from inside the box and points on the metal stick in the shorter Doctor's hand.

"Is that your magic staff?"

"What, this?" The man in the strange cravat exclaims, "No! It is a sonic screwdriver! It is not a weapon!"

The second Doctor nods, "Doesn't kill, doesn't wound, doesn't maim. But I'll tell you what it does do. It is very good at opening doors. And getting us where we need to go. Shall we, your majesties?" He gestures, inviting them to go into the box.

"You want us to go with you two?" The King looks at them in disbelief. "Why in the Durin's name would you think we would agree?"

"Because we have already convinced your wife, your majesty, and that pretty much decides it." The shorter Doctor says and smiles. The King looks at his Queen and puffs air in indignation. She is giving him a shy smile.

"Would you excuse us?" She grabs his sleeve and pulls him aside. There is an agitated whispered dialogue between them, she is quite obviously mollifying, he is huffing and puffing, but he is quite obviously losing this battle.

"Alright!" He barks dropping his arms along his body in surrender. She squeals and throws her arms around his neck. She is peppering small kisses on his face, and he pretends to dislike it.

She rushes to the blue box, practically bobbing on her heels. "So, kind sirs, where to?"

"Well, your majesty, the place is called London, and the years is 2014 A.D." The lanky Doctor announced, and the Queen steps in.

"What in the Durin's name is A.D.?" The King grumbles and picks up his cloak from the ground, heading inside the box as well.

"Oh apple," the taller Doctor sinks his teeth in a fruit and follows the royal couple.

"Apple's rubbish. I hate apples," the other one grouchs, following them, "Fish fingers on the other hand..."

The door closes behind them, and with a strange whirring noise the blue box disappears in thin air.


	2. Chapter 2

The Queen steps out of the wardrobe in a tiny black lace dress, wearing high heeled strappy sandals, her unruly curls in a ponytail. There is a bit of makeup on her face, and she is frantically blinking from an unfamiliar sensation on her eyelids. In her hand she is holding a fashion magazine.

"I have followed the suggestion of..." She peeks on the cover again, "this book titled _Cosmopolitan_..." She blows a runaway strand from her forehead and hesitantly shifts between her feet, "But I will be honest with you, kind sirs, I am rather uncertain it is such a favourable..." She stops in the middle of a sentence when she sees the faces of the three men in the control room of TARDIS. While the taller Doctor is smiling to her widely, his warm brown eyes drinking in her appearance, the one with a bowtie, and now she knows what it is called and knows it is cool, although she is not certain what it has to do with temperature, the bowtie one is staring at her aghast, her husband swallows with difficulty and suddenly jumps on his feet and smashes some panel with his fist. The time machine whirs indignantly.

"Our association is repealed! In the Durin's name, everyone can see her legs! No wife of mine..." He chokes on his own words when she twirls on the spot and giggles.

"It would not be my legs I would be concerned about others to see, my lord!"

"Zundush..." His tone is pleading.

"But they all are garbed in such way, look!" She opens the magazine on front of him, and he quickly covers his eyes with his hand.

"It is called a push-up bra!" The Queen's voice is excited, "And it… 'gives you the perfect natural lift,'" she reads in the most exuberant tone. The shorter Doctor who has also clasped his palm over his eyes waves in the air with the second hand.

"Perhaps your majesty could..." She giggles and plops on a chair absorbed in the magazine. Her husband groans.

The taller Doctor is busy with some buttons and levers on the panel. His brain specs are perched on his nose. "We need to tinker up the translation circuit, she needs to sound natural..." There is a loud beep, and the small curls around the Queen's head fluff up in a surge of static electricity. "Your majesty, would you please greet us?"

She lifts her eyes and smiles to him, "Whatcha, guvna?" The shorter Doctor wrinkles his nose. The taller one nods in agreement.

"Too much of a chav? Yes, definitely. She is always so posh… Let's try again." Another beep, and then Queen giggles.

"Any barney, mate? I've got some tingling in my noggin. You jolly need to fix my gob!" The Doctor with mad hair twirls another knob, and she blinks. "That is much better, thank you. I can't say it was unpleasant, but I prefer no noises in my head. Are you fixing the perceptional matrix of my verbal interface?" All three men stare at her in shock. She smiles. "Don't look so surprised. I think I possess rather high intelligence, it's just inapplicable in Middle Earth, but once it is given enough media to express itself, I can perceive and process rather complicated scientific concepts."

"If, after your quest is over, you do not return my wife in her usual state, I will cut off your flesh off your bones with a butter knife," the King's tone is even.

"Deal," the taller Doctor nods and gulps. He then comes closer to the Queen and looks into her eyes. "How are you feeling, your majesty?"

"Wonderful, why? You have only altered the verbal expression of my mind, everything else stayed unaltered."

"Right..." He ruffles his hair and looks at the second Doctor hesitantly.

"It'll be fine," the bowtie Doctor doesn't sound very certain.

"What about my husband? Will he also get…" She peeks into the magazine, "A total make-over?"

"Oh right, sorry, got distracted," the taller Doctor rushes to some other knobs and screens, "If your majesty could get up..." The King grudgingly steps closer to the central panel, and then his image wavers and is replaced by a much taller version of him. The Queen gasps and drops her magazine. It falls on the floor, and it becomes obvious she was reading the sex advice column.

"Oh, that is a wonderful hologram projection… First rate!" The shorter Doctor exclaims, "Are you making it solid?"

"Of course I am making it solid," the other Doctor answers grumpily, "We are matchmaking, not sending him to present an astrophysics paper. He needs flesh."

"I beg your pardon?" This is the Queen's turn to sound appalled.

"Oh do not worry, your majesty, not much is required!" The short Doctor flails his hands mollifyingly, "Perhaps a bit of..." He puckers his lips and makes kissing noises.

"What?! No, I'm not pimping my husband to some manky minger!" She chokes and shakes her head to clear her mind, "Doctor, I think your translation circuit is glitching again." The taller Doctor twirls couple more knobs. She blinks and hiccups. But then she is back into her apprehensive state. She steps closer to the mad hair Doctor and points her small index finger into his face. "We have not agreed to help you to be used as tools of seduction. I understand the reincarnation idea and the concept of life spark transition through generations, but we are also separate entities, and the woman that my husband, as your colleague has so ungracefully put, will have to..." She imitates the kissing noises, "Is not me! Thorin?"

The Doctors and the Queen turn to the King and realize he has not heard a single word of their discussion. He is still staring down his body. The width is still there, but now he is about 6'4'' tall, his body heavy and all rock hard muscles, arms massive, an astonishing waist shoulder ratio. He slightly moves his large upper body and stares at his hands. His eyes are brilliant.

The Queen also seems suddenly mesmerized. She seemingly just had the first good look. Her jaw drops, and she makes a small mewling sound.

"I am not letting him out of this machine looking like that!" Her voice is shrieky.

"Your majesty, the destiny of the universe depends on what you and your husband need to achieve today," the shorter Doctor's tone is soft, and the Queen tears her eyes off her husband who is now trying to see his backside and swirls like a puppy chasing his tail. Two pairs of green eyes meet, and he smiles to her warmly. "Wren of Dale, you, brilliant, brilliant woman, you are the woman to patch this tear in the fabric of reality, help two people to fall in love and reboot this universe. And I know you will do everything in your power to help six billion of people in the planet below and all who has ever lived and will live again. And how do I know this? Because I have seen other yous, and they are magnificent!"

The Queen's face softens, but she frowns slightly, "Yes, but snogging other people..."

"I know, nasty business," the bowtie Doctor shakes his head and awkwardly pats her shoulder.

Meanwhile, the taller Doctor leads a still flabbergasted King Under the Mountain into the wardrobe, out of which they reemerge half an hour later. The Queen's jaw slacks, and she takes giants gulps of the air. In a black three piece suit, fancy shoes, and a dark grey tie, that he is jerking with an irritated facial expression, the King is…

"Sodding fit!" The Queens squeaks, and the taller Doctor rushes to his knobs. He is ruffling his hair in confusion.

"I don't understand, where this pikey slang comes from! The dials are on 'posh' and 'articulate'!"

"I have to admit it's my fault," the Queen blushes, "I just thought that mindbogglingly attractive would not be adequate..."

The three men look at her, the King still awkwardly pulling at his tie. "Will my speech be corrected as well?" The mad hair Doctor turns some dials, and the King clears his throat. "I do not feel any changes."

"Can I kiss your wife?" The taller Doctor asks innocently, and the new and enlarged King steps towards him, clenching his massive fist.

"Try it, fannybawbag, and I'll skelp your heid-the-baw noggin so that it will meet the boggin ceiling!"

"It works," confirms the taller Doctor, while the Queen is quite obviously ogling the taller version of her husband.

"How long will it take the results of your manipulations dissipate after we are done, by the way?" She steps towards the King and places her palms on his chest. She is normally one inch shorter than him, and now she has to drop her head all the way back to look at him. He lifts one brow, and she giggles.

"Not a minute longer than necessary," reassures the second Doctor and rushes to the control panel. "I've already had a couple in love in my TARDIS, inconceivable people! For some reason they opposed to bunk beds!" He pulls a wide lever, and the machine swirls, throwing all four of them across the control room. The Queen shrieks and is caught around her waist by the taller Doctor. The King grabs the collar of the shorter Doctor, and then the room keels on the other side. With another wave of squeaks and grunts they all tumble on the other side, and finally land, in an entanglement of limbs.

"When did you get your bloody license? In Embra?!" The King barks and gets up on his feet. He pulls the Queen from under some panel she rolled under, and she smooths her dress. The Doctors get up, both flailing their arms.

They open the door, and the royal couple peeks outside. London assaults them with noises, smells and sunlight dancing on the Shard. Both the King and his small, and now compared to him as well, wife open their mouths and then close them with a clank of teeth.

"Mr. John Crispin Thorington," the taller Doctor is reading off the screen on the control panel above his head, "Forty three, bachelor, head of a law firm, degree from ULC, favourite colour navy blue." He turns the screen to the other three, and they stare at the photo from some official event. The Queen hums approvingly, and the King winces.

"Should I be jealous or flattered by your reaction, little one?" A thick Northern accent in his speech makes the Queen flutter her lashes and lick her lips.

"But of course flattered, love." He twitches the brow and leans in.

"Oh no, none of that," the bowtie Doctor pushes them away from each other. "Honestly, you are worse than the Ponds!"

"We need a plan..." The skinny Doctor ponders. "Miss Leary, and that is your reincarnation, your majesty, is Mr. Thorington's personal assistant. It is the end of her three week trial and according to what we see in the time stream at the moment she won't last. She leaves, they never get together, and..."

"Bang," the second Doctor finishes mournfully.

"Bang?" The King and The Queen ask together.

"The universe collapses into itself, and time and space cease to exist."

"Well, that's sodding good news," the King comments grumpily. "What's the plan?"

"Well," the bowtie Doctor splays his fingers.

"Again with the flailing," the taller one grouches.

"The plan is each of you to go to the reincarnation of the other and fix it."

"How?" The royal couple once again ask in one voice.

"Well, do your thing!" The bowtie Doctor waves him arms in a vague but frantic gesture, "The humany thing. The hands, the eyes, looking into the soul, pheromone thing! Scones and texting!"

"You have no bloody idea, do you?" The King asks sarcastically.

"I perceive a number of problems," the Queen adds thoughtfully, "They have known each other for two weeks, and since he is going to make her redundant, I do not think they get along that well."

"Then make them get along!" The taller Doctor exclaims, "You two out of all people in the universe know what makes the other one click. Yes, they dislike each other, yes, probably by this point they have an unpleasant first impression from each other..."

"Wait," the Queen interrupts, "Then why can't we just go back and make a better first impression?" Both Doctors shake their heads. The mad hair Doctor grabs the Queen's shoulders and looks into her eyes.

"It is a fixed point in time, Wren. This is when it all fell apart, and that is when you are supposed to fix it. Time from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint is like a big ball of wibbly wobbly... timey wimey... stuff, but this one day, today," he quickly looks at the panel, "August 4th, 2014 is when it all happens. So you go there, and save the world!"

**A/N: Well, that is obviously growing longer than just a three-shot...**


	3. Chapter 3

John presses the button on the communicator and barks, "I've been waiting for my coffee for almost ten minutes, Miss Leary! What is taking so long?"

There's a squeak on the other end of a line, then he thinks he hears a muffled male voice, he frowns in irritation, and his new secretary's voice is heard, "Right… Yes, certainly… In a moment, sir…" There is a screeching noise as if she just patched him up to a different line for no particular reason, and then she hangs up. He clenches his jaw. The girl has worked for him for two weeks. He is supposed to give her three until he decides he can make her redundant. He could see that was the case three days into her employment. Given today's behaviour is out of the ordinary, she is rather efficient most of the time, but she is also insubordinate, snarky and a feminist. The last thing John needs in his office is a bloody feminist. He is a divorce attorney after all.

The door opens, and Miss Leary comes in with a tray. There is coffee, sugar, cream, and a plate of Jammy Dodgers. She carefully places it on the side table and swiftly arranges it on his desk. He is staring at the screen of his laptop, but something makes him turn and look at her more attentively. There is a slightly different ambience around her today. Due to his profession John has an oversensitive radar when it comes to women. Instead of a defensive, validation needing, high strung girl he sees a cute redhead, slightly flirty, movements of her small hands fluid and confident. And then he realises she is humming a tune, and he feels his jaw slack. Yesterday he might have yelled at her and mentioned that she was as good as fired, and today she is humming! And it is Shakira! He has nieces, he is forced to recognize "Hips Don't Lie" when he hears it. He is staring, and she notices and throws him a look from the corner of her eye. Soft copper fringe falls on the half of her face, and she straightens and blows the fringe off. He suddenly notices that she has amazing lips. Red, the bottom one plump, just asking to be kissed, and… John shakes his head, and she smiles widely to him.

"Anything else, sir?" He can't tell if it was suggestive. His famous lady radar is jammed. Were she any other secretary, he'd assume it was, and he would give her a bullet right away, everyone knows he can't stand flirts, but it's Wren Leary. Stroppy, opinionated Wren Leary, who went as far as telling him off when he was harsh with a client's wife. She had waited till the woman left, but still that's when it became clear she needed to go. She was right actually, he pressed too hard, and they lost a few points in the separation agreement, but he will not be antagonized by a secretary!

"Nothing, thank you," his voice is slightly raspy, and he clears his throat. She nods and heads out of his office. And for the first time in his life John catches himself staring at a woman's buttocks. Firstly, he realizes that under a demure little jacket she is wearing, she has a black lacy dress. And it is short. She still looks put together, but her delicious round bum suddenly conks out several synopses in his brain. He is popular with women, he doesn't need to sneak a peek. And after all, that is indeed degrading to women's dignity. But something is different today, and his extensive intellect is suddenly blank, his animalistic side, he didn't know he had, shows its furry head, and his brain isn't the organ in charge all of a sudden. He closes his eyes and topples his espresso into his throat. He must be falling ill. There is something wrong with his noggin today.

And then he hears her giggle in the lobby. Something explodes in the back of his head from this sound, he shortly wonders if he just had a micro stroke, and then he is certain he just went mad, because he gets up and starts creeping towards the door. He carefully opens it, just a crack, and sees his secretary sitting on the edge of her desk, dangling her small feet, and some long, lanky git in a stripy suit is looming over her. She is so short, that even propped on the table, her eyes aren't on the same level with his. The git with mad hair is supporting himself on one arm, his hand unpleasantly close to her hip, and they are chatting amicably.

"Where is the older Doctor?" She asks, and her long black lashes flutter.

"Oh, you are brilliant, you are," the git murmurs in a disgustingly seductive tone, "How did you know?"

"The eyes, the mirror of the soul. And his are so much older." He shakes his head in disbelief. "But happier. That Amy he mentioned, someone special to him?" The man nods, and she gently strokes the lapel of his striped jacket. "And you? You seem endlessly lonely... Where is someone special to travel with you?"

"Well..." He gives her a long, thoughtful look, "They eventually all have someone else. Some leave, some die, some…" And then he smiles impishly and cocks one brow. "But if you go with me..." She tut tuts.

"How is that even possible, Doctor? I have responsibilities..."

"Yes, but..." He places the second hand on the other side of her, and John realizes he is clenching a fist. "You're a genius. You're stone cold brilliant, you are, I swear, you really are. With a mind like that, we could travel the stars. It would be my honour." She laughs, her voice a silvery bell, and John considers interfering. Some voodoo doctor, obviously not a medical specialist, and what a chat up! The girl is obviously confused. Suddenly John notices delicate slender ankles, thin black straps wrapped around them, the proud set of her copper head, adorable turned up nose. If asked before today, he'd have had trouble remembering her haircolour. She gives the lanky git a look from under her lashes. "And no one has to know..." The so-called Doctor seems to have come up with another argument. "A quick trip around the universe, and you'll be home right on time to put your children to bed."

"Oh," she clasps her small hand over her mouth, "I will have children?"

"Blimey," the skinny git laughs and shakes his head again. The mad fluffed up hair jumps. "You are good! One should be careful with you, magnificent Wren." She grins back and then cups his face with one hand.

"I'm sorry, Doctor, but my answer is no. As wonderful as this adventure is, I know where I belong. And you should find someone to share your travels, no one should be alone with so much responsibility. Believe me, I know it better than any other person in the world. A man can't carry the world on his shoulders alone." He is studying her face, and her thumb brushes his bottom lip.

"How are you doing this, Wren?" A strange emotion is splashing in his eyes. It takes a second for John to recognize it as envy. "Year after year, century after century, you bring each one of them to their glory, you make them magnificent, you make them fantastic, support them, comfort them, tolerate them..." She chuckles. "How are you doing that? Without you he is lost, I have seen it, there is only rage and death, and destruction, and pained emptiness."

"Love, Doctor, as banal and corny as it sounds. And don't think highly of me, us… None of us has any choice. Like you said yourself, fixed point. It is death and pain for me without him as well." He straightens up and gives her a warm look.

"But what's the secret?" She laughs.

"If I understand it right, and as you should remember, I've only loved one man in my life, only one of them, but men like John are born for love but live for duty. They don't understand it themselves, they think if they don't take care of everything, no one will. They serve, one way or another, they are all about duty and work, always work," she chuckles, "And they forget or just don't even know that life is so much more. And once they are reminded of it, they open up like a flower." She giggles, probably from some pleasant memories.

"More of a cactus if you ask me," the git mumbles, and she sniggers.

"He was just jealous, you are too dashing." He prims up but then feigns nonchalance.

"Nonsense, no flirting for me, it's the other one's prerogative!" She giggles.

"Which reminds me, are they going to be alright? I have a feeling, it's sort of the blind leading the blind situation there."

"Don't worry, apparently they will have help. Someone called Dr. Song will be with them. I'm thinking I should have stopped by in Cardiff and asked a friend of mine to help. Jack would have a trick or two to teach your King."

"Oh, he'll be fine. If I know anything about anything, he just needs to smirk and cock a brow, and she is toast." They both laugh, John can see all thirty two teeth of the skinny git, and Wren places her hand on his chest, and that's when John snaps. He sharply opens the door, and the two of them choke of their frolics.

She hurriedly jumps off the table, but then she wobbles and ends up pressed to the man's chest, both her hands splayed on the lapels on his jacket, and that does something to John's mind. He suspects he is snarling, but he can't help it. Some inborn, genetic memory, some Neanderthal possessiveness makes him fist his hands and behave like a plonker.

"Can I help you with something?" He is staring into the dark eyes of the man in the stripy suit, and Wren makes a slow step back from the stranger. Her palms slide off his chest, and some sort of odd tension releases in John's head.

"Hello!" The man is smiling benevolently and widely, "I am the Doctor, and I'm already leaving." Wren bites her bottom lip to hide her smile, and picking up his long brown coat of her table the lanky man disappears.

There is silence in the lobby, Wren is blissfully smiling to him, and he feels like a complete imbecile. He has just performed a human equivalent of running around her and peeing on her leg. She is his secretary, and he is planning to fire her in a week. He throws a cautious look at her. She has just said that he doesn't think about anything but work, and he can hardly argue with her. He momentarily thinks of his empty flat, one can rollerskate in its halls, the flat he is so proud of and that suddenly seems so ridiculous. He thinks of last Christmas he celebrated in Alagna, alone, there was some girl, but he seems to remember they had a row and she left, and he hardly noticed. They always leave, and he never cares. They are always tall, blonde, sophisticated, ambitious, and he never lets them close. None of them would even think of offering him Jammy Dodgers with coffee. He is starving, he missed his breakfast, and with his mass and his metabolism, he is always hungry. He has always loved Jammy Dodgers, since he was a kid, and they turned out just as good as he remembered. He ate all of the biscuits and then felt embarrassed. And then he felt angry, he shouldn't care what his secretary thinks about him.

"You should eat something, sir," she has a melodic voice, yet another thing he hasn't noticed about her, "You look starved. I recognize the shadows on the temples..." She waves her fingers in the air, there is sincere care in her voice, and he feels all soft and warm inside, and then scolds himself.

"Order me something from Jonah's," he swirls on his heels and rushes back in his office, slamming the door behind him. He pretends he is not hiding from her warm eyes and from the fact she has just told some skinny pillock that he is the only man she has ever loved in her life.

He spends the next half an hour pretending to work, when she knocks at the door, and he knows it is her. He invites her in, and she walks in with a tray. The smell of food hits his nose, and his mouth waters.

"I apologise for my insolence, sir," there is teasing and laughter in her voice but he doesn't care. All he can think of is the burger, with chips and three happy looking dill cucumbers, on a large plate in front of him. "I just thought all those dishes in Jonah's sound endlessly posh and dull." She places the plate in front of him. "And I found this menu in my table, so…" He is trying to tear his eyes from the sesame seeds on the bun. "It's a septic place, they know what they are doing. And I won't tell anybody that you eat such chavvy food, if you don't." The last phrase she pronounces in a fake conspiratory tone, her lips close to his ear, and he turns to her jerkily. There are little sparks of laughter dancing in her remarkable slanted eyes, and he swallows with difficulty. And as if he could be anymore shocked, she warmly pats his shoulder and leaves his office.

Having finished his lunch he stretches his long legs under his desk, leans back on his chair and closes his eyes. The communicator comes to life, "Would you like some tea and perhaps pudding, sir?" He knows she is mocking him, but he is feeling so good that he doesn't care.

"Yes, Miss Leary, I would love some tea. And more Dodgers, if there are any left," he sounds so chuffed that he starts laughing himself.

"Oh, I have something better," she murmurs into the communicator, and he decides she is as much as fired.

"And fetch yourself a cuppa too, Miss Leary."

She comes in with a tray, a pot, a sugar bowl, a cream saucer that he didn't know they even had in the office, and a plate of shortbread biscuits on it. She puts all this abundance in front of him, pours two cups of tea and leans on his desk near him, sipping hers. He bites into a fluffy white sweet and closes his eyes in pleasure.

"Have you baked them yourself?" He peeks at her, she is smiling to him.

"I found them on the kitchen counter this morning, so suppose so," her answer is a bit odd, but he is sipping hot fragrant tea and smiles to her blissfully.

"Will you go out with me, Wren?" He sounds completely relaxed, but he is a bit nervous. She did indeed pretty much confessed her feelings for him to that odd skinny bloke, but for once in his life he actually wants it to work out. She hums noncommittally and takes another sip of tea.

"You will have to fire me," she doesn't seem very upset by it.

"There are other partners in the firm. I'm sure one of them would love such an efficient and competent secretary." She laughs.

"Flattery, really?" He smirks to her lopsidedly, and she giggles. The sounds tickles his spine, and he finds himself staring at her mouth. "I have two conditions."

"Anything," he has just answered too quickly. He must be getting ill.

"I have some important appointment, so I will need the rest of the day off. And number two," she leans, and her eyes are just in front of him. They are not green, they are amber, and right now they are the same colour as his favourite Aberlour A'bunadh, "Ask me tomorrow morning again."


	4. Chapter 4

"Alright, your majesty, here is the plan," the Doctor in a bowtie flails his hands in the air, "While your wife is… ahem… talking to your current incarnation, we are going to approach Miss Wren Elizabeth Leary on her way to work," he swirls some knobs on the panel of his time machine, and both he and the enlarged King Under the Mountain have to grab to all possible handles to stay upright. "She leaves her building every day at eight fifteen and heads for a bus stop. We will intercept her there."

"And what exactly are we planning to do when we do?" The King's voice is sardonic. The machine stops shaking and seemingly arrives at its destination.

"Well, you are going to charm her of course!" The Doctor makes a strange wiggling movement with his whole body, something between dancing Calypso and convulsing in a whirling dervish fit. "Be Mr. Hottie, trick in a hat, texting and scones, magic in the eyes, and yowzah!" The Doctor is still talking, but his wide ecstatic smile is quickly deflating under the sarcastic look of the King's blue eyes.

"You have no idea, do you?" The Doctor mumbles something indistinguishable, when the King smirks and shakes his head. "Are you married, Doctor?"

"Yes. No. Depends on how you look at it," the Doctor ruffles his hair, "More yes than no. And not once. What? Blimey..." The King turns to the full length mirror at the wall and gives himself a critical viewing. He is clad in a black suit, elegant dark grey tie, and a pair of shiny shoes.

"You know what I do when it comes to the matters of heart, when I have to understand people, to deal with emotions?" He fixes his tie and takes a deep breath.

"No. What?" The Doctor gives him a pensive look.

"I ask my wife, Doctor." The man in a bowtie smiles helplessly fidgets with his braces. "So, tell me, Doctor, how am I supposed to charm a woman who is supposedly not so chuffed with the man I see in the mirror at the moment?"

"Be yourself?" The Doctor offers hesitantly, and they both sigh sadly.

They carefully open the door and peek outside. The blue police box is parked in a narrow back alley, behind a building with Miss Leary's flat, and the King steps out.

"Remember, be firm but charming. He is a barrister, they are a driven lot, like sharks or wasps, we can't have her doubt it's him. But less of the roar, and more of purr…" The King lifts one brows, and the Doctor freezes with his hands in the air in a strange imitation of claws of what he thinks is a sexy tiger. The Doctor hides his arms behind his back. "Alright, let's go through the lines again," the Doctor pulls out in a small book in soft cover from the pocket of his tweed jacket. _How to Talk to Women and Succeed _by Dr. Katya Smith, Ph.D. is open on chapter three, "If You failed the First Time, It Doesn't Mean You Lost the War."

The King gives the Doctor a heavy glare, "You have cramped all this information down my throat twice by now, Doctor. I might not possess the exceptional intelligence of my wife, but I'm capable of remembering seven simple steps."

"Even number six?" The King growls, exasperated. His shoulders are squared haughtily, but an attentive person would notice how tightly he is clenching his fists.

"Even number six. _Show vulnerability and share personal information_. I'm not a moron, Doctor, I'm just a Dwarf from Middle Earth with a corporeal projection of a taller body and in the middle of an attempted seduction of a woman who looks like my wife but potentially has very little in common with her, and I actually have no idea how to charm a Wren of any sort, or any other woman for that matter, since technically in our timeline she seduced me, and I was exhilarated, because I was too much of a coward to even consider that a woman like her would be interested in me, since unlike other men around her, I could see her worth as a wife, a mistress and a mother for my future children from the moment I saw her wandering my halls, and I felt completely bewitched by her from the moment she lifted her magnificent eyes at me, rocking on the heels of her sexy tiny feet." The King finally catches a breath and sags on the ground, his back pressed to the wall of TARDIS. He grabs his tie and jerks it, gulping for air.

"Oh that's unfortunate," the Doctor is eyeing the King, who is quite obviously hyperventilating on the ground, not toppling over only because he is supported by the blue wall of the police box.

"What is going on with me, Doctor?" The King raspily croaks, his hand pressed to his chest.

"I would suspect the time is catching up with you, and since we remodeled some of the synopses of your brain you are starting to evaluate your life from a more contemporary point of view, and while your current counterpart is blind to the worth of the union with his version of your wife, you are starting to understand the depth of her influence on the very fabric of your destiny. And while previously your perception and understanding of your marriage was clouded by the chauvinistic beliefs and concepts of your era, at the moment you understand the degree of your dependency on her and the intricacies and difficulties of actually being in relationships." The Doctor takes a spasmodic breath in and slides on the ground, his shoulder pressed to the one of the King Under the Mountain, his back pressed to his police box. "You will never be able to imitate him, convince her he is a viable option, and fix the tear in time and space itself." The King shakes his head confirming the Doctor's analysis, and the Doctor breathes out, "Blimey, we are are in trouble. We need help… Oh, I'm extremely clever! Help!" He scampers clumsily, waving his long arms in the air, almost taking the King's eye out, and rushes inside the police box. There is some screeching noise from inside, and suddenly with a puff of smoke and a few sparks of static electricity a woman appears in front of the King who is still breathing heavily. She has a mane of glorious wavy hair, an enticing curvaceous body and a pair of strange guns strapped to her hips over an alluring dress with uneven hem and a leather underbust corset. The Doctor sticks his head out of the half open door of the box and smiles widely.

"Hello, sweetie," River Song smiles suggestively, and then her eyes fall on the King on the ground. "Oh, Doctor, that is a perfect gift for my birthday." The King blinks, and the Doctor rushes towards her.

"No, no, River, that is not what you think..." And then he pauses in front of her, "And it's not even your birthday!" River chuckles throatily to him and winks to the King. "Oh, River, River, you bad, bad girl, it is hardly the time for this. We have a situation on our hands." He points at the King, and she gives the man an appraising look.

"We do indeed, sweetie. Is that a corporeal projection? Wonderfully executed. You could have even tricked me if I hadn't once dated one for a month." She steps ahead and stretches her hand to the King. "Allow me to help you, your majesty." She pulls him up, and he stands in all his impressive height. Her eyes roam his broad chest, bulging muscles obvious even under the crisp fabric of his jacket, and down the endless legs. "Oh, the mind races. Have you kept the parameters for this to replicate it later?" She gestures all over the King, and he cocks a brow, to which she answers with a short smoky laugh. Suddenly he bestows her with a low ceremonial bow and picks up her hand.

"Thorin, son of Thrain, at your service, my lady," he kisses her knuckles, and she lifts one brow.

"Well, lovely, and now to the matter at hand," the Doctor wedges his body between them and drags River to the side. He is wildly gesticulating, pointing at the King, and whispering hotly something to the woman. He shows her the book, and she laughs loudly and disdainfully. She grabs it out of his hands, throws it into the air and shoots it with one of her guns. A ray of light splashes through the air, and small pieces of paper slowly and sadly fall on the ground like first snowflakes in November.

"Sweetie, let someone who knows what they are doing deal with that," River confidently approaches the King who seems to have finally recovered from his melt-down. She grabs his shoulders and turns him to face her. "Alright, I can understand the allure, but let's face it, you are no better at this than your current incarnation… I can see only one way out of it."

"Which is?" The Doctor asks, looking over her shoulder. She slowly walks around the King, giving him a look over, not missing the majestic backside. Her lips twitch.

"Florence."

"Italy?" The Doctor asks.

"Nightingale," answers River and knocks the King out with the handle of her gun.

"River!" The Doctor squeals, and the heavy body of the King Under the Mountain, enlarged to 6'4'' slacks on the ground.

"Oh, don't River me, sweetie. Help me to drag him to the entrance to the building. We don't want her to miss him when she comes out." At that moment the phone on the side of the police box rings, and the Doctor picks it up. The voice of the second, taller Doctor can be heard in the receiver, and the Doctor swirls on one spot, the cable wrapping around his shoulders.

"Yes, yes, everything is alright… Yes, everything goes according to plan..." The Doctor with a bowtie mumbles into the receiver, watching River loosening the King's tie and pulling it off. She unbuttons three buttons on his shirt, and the Doctor frantically covers the phone with his palm. "River, what are you doing?" He hisses.

"Trust me, sweetie, if anything can convince her to look at him twice, it's the chest." She makes big eyes at him, and he groans in terror. The other Doctor is getting louder in the phone, and the man with a bowtie presses it back to his ear.

"Yes, yes, I am here… We are very close to success… Half way there… Maybe slightly less… River is helping me, Dr. River Song… Who is Doctor Song?" The Doctor mumbles and looks at her. She lifts her brows pointedly. "Spoilers. Yes, yes, I'm certain everything will work… Yes! See you at lunch time." He hangs up and nervously fidgets with his bowtie, while River is pulling at the King's sleeve. The fabric tears and after giving it a second thought, she musses his hair and takes one of his shoes off.

"Common, sweetie, I can't drag him alone. The projection is corporeal!" The Doctor mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like "I know, I made it myself..." and grabs the King's long arm. They pull him and put him on the grass near the entrance to the building. Then they quickly run back and hide behind the police box.

Wren predictably rushes out of the door two minutes and thirty two seconds later, still rummaging in her purse with one hand, keys grasped in the other, when she freezes in her tracks in front of the body of her boss spread on the ground. She drops her handbag and keys and rushes to him. Her skin grows even paler than usual, and her slanted eyes are twice their normal size. She kneels and cups his face.

"Mr. Thorington! John… John!" Her hands run over his body, she is looking for injuries. "Oh my goodness, no blood… John! John, do you hear me?" He groans, and she cups his face. "John?"

His eyelashes flutter, and he slowly opens his eyes.

"Oh my god, thank goodness!" She exhales in relief. "Oh wait, where is my mobile? I'll call the ambulance..."

"Wren..." His voice is raspy, and she leans closer to hear him better.

"Yes, it's me… John, what hurts? What happened?!" One of his massive arms flies up, he cups the back of her head and pulls her into a kiss. She squeals but relaxes into it suspiciously quickly. Her hand falls on his chest, and the small deft fingers slide under the side of an open shirt. He moans approvingly into her mouth, and she moves a bit closer. After a few minutes of energetic snogging, some sense returns to Miss Leary, and she tries to move away, but it only leads to the King rising from his horizontal position, his second arm wrapping around her waist. He is now sitting, pressing her into him, and her arms find their way around his neck.

"John… You might be hurt..." She mumbles, finally having torn off her mouth from his, but it only makes him slide his lips to her ear and on her neck. "Oh, in the name of all deities..." She sounds way too breathy for a person who wants to stop their current activity, and then she grabs his ears and leads his mouth to hers.

They are kissing sitting on the lawn near a bus stop, while the bowtie Doctor has pressed River Song into the blue wall of the TARDIS, his arms though clumsily lay on her hips, and she is leaving a horrible disarray in his puffy hair.


	5. Chapter 5

Queen Zundushinh is walking around the control room, her small fingers gently running on the panels, and a warm hum comes from inside the machine.

"She likes you," the Tenth Doctor pronounces in surprise.

"She is beautiful," the Queen's voice is tender, and she strokes a random screen. "So old, so wise, so sexy..." The Doctor chuckles and pulls some lever.

"We are almost there. Hopefully, the other Doctor and your husband succeeded, and you two can happily go home." She smiles to him, and he comes up to her, his hands deep in the pockets of his suit trousers, his long brown coat funnily bulging behind like a tail of a peacock. "Unless you want to take my invitation..." She throws him a look over her shoulder, and he grins widely. "Think about it, Wren, all the time and space, and you will be back for dinner. Imagine it, no crown, no people to rule, no Orcs to fight. Just the open sky." She stops and leans back on the control console. He stops in front of her and tenderly looks down at her.

"Oh, Doctor, that is tempting..." He cocks one brow, and she giggles. She gently brushes the tips of her fingers on his tie and says calmly, "But my answer is no. I'm sorry, but no."

"But why?" He leans closer, his hand lies on the console near her. "I need someone like you, Wren. I could really use someone like you. Do you know how I see the universe? Every waking second I can see what is, what was, what could be, what must not. It's the burden of a Time Lord, Wren, and I'm the only one left." His voice wavers, and she gasps.

"No one else?" Her extraordinary eyes fill with tears, and he nods.

"There was a war. A Time War. The Last Great Time War. My people fought a race called the Daleks... for the sake of all creation. And they lost. We lost. Everyone lost. They're all gone now. My family. My friends. And those who travelled with me… They leave. Will _you _stay with me?" His face is close, and her lashes flutter.

"I am Queen Zundushinh, wife of Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror. I can't stay with you." Her whisper is hardly audible but firm, and he blinks. She throws her arms around his neck and presses him into her. "Promise me you will find someone to share your travels, Doctor." He gulps and closes his eyes, his face pained. "Promise me..." He nods, and she cups the back of his head. He emits a shuddering sigh, and she strokes his extraordinary hair. She moves away from him slightly and looks into his dark eyes. "And perhaps that someone should share your heart as well, Doctor. Both of them really." He chuckles shakily and straightens up.

"Quite right too," they smile to each other, and the machine shakes having arrived at its final destination.

His blue box is parked in the same backalley as the other Doctor's, and he opens the door for her. She walks out still smiling to him and freezes in her tracks.

"Is that my husband snogging some bint on that lawn?" Her voice is a menacing hiss, and the Doctor halts near her. He places his hand on her shoulder, and she turns to him sharply, "Is it?!"

"Well, you know..." He ruffles his hair with the other hand, and then they notice the other Doctor intertwined with a curvaceous fit chick against the wall of the other TARDIS. "What?!" The tall Doctor's voice is squeaky, and his mouth falls open. "What?! What?!"

"It seems I'm not the only one who has some aggro with snogging here," the Queen's voice is venomous.

"What?!" The Doctor with mad hair opens and closes his mouth several more times, and then hisses, "Doctor!" The couple at the other blue box halts their energetic activity, and the Doctor with a bow tie jumps away from his companion. She sees the other Doctor and purrs.

"Two Doctors? And this version… The legs and the eyes and the hands... Oh, the mind races."

"What is this?" The Queen steps out of the box and points her finger towards the enlarged version of her husband and her modern incarnation copping off on the grass.

"Let me explain..." The bow tie Doctor starts, but his companion interrupts him.

"You really shouldn't, sweetie. I think her Majesty was asking rhetorically." The eyes of the two women meet, and after a moment of silence the Queen exhales through rounded lips.

"Right… But putting aside the fact that my husband is kissing some chav on that lawn, that is not going according to the plan. How are we going to patch this..." She throws a derisive look towards the couple on the grass, "and John asking Wren out tomorrow morning? The King was supposed to charm her and convince her to even consider it tomorrow, not play tonsil hockey with her." At the end of the phrase her voice is a low growl.

The bow tie Doctor looks at her mortified, "Oops."

"Exactly," the Queen taps her foot on the ground, and suddenly they hear a yelp. Wren from the current time is lying on the ground, dumbfounded expression on her face, while the King Under the Mountain is scampering away from her. He apparently pushed her away.

"You are not her! How didn't I feel it right away? I can't, I thought it was her, you are not..." He is hyperventilating again, pressing his hands to his temples.

"Oh no..." The taller Doctor exhales, and the Queen grabs his hand.

"What is going on?"

"He can't do it. I'm not surprised, of course he can't... Not after being married to you..." The tall Doctor shakes his head, he exchanges panicked looks with the other Doctor, and River clenches her fists.

"I can't, I'm sorry, you do look like her, but you're not her… It feels wrong… The kiss felt wrong..." The King is moving away from the redhead, who sat up and is staring at him in shock. She is obviously getting rather cheesed off.

"Who she?" Her tone is cold and sounds exactly like the Queen's from just a few seconds ago.

"My wife..." The King's voice is raspy, and the taller Doctor presses his hand over his mouth.

"Oh no..." The bow tie Doctor looks at the woman near him, "River, we made a mistake..." She bites her bottom lip and nods.

"Yes, you did. And it's time to fix it," the Queen's voice is firm, and she suddenly walks around the blue box and starts marching towards her husband and the redhead. Wren from this time has jumped up on her feet, and judging by the finger pointed at the man still sitting on the ground she is planning to yell at him and tell him to sod off. She freezes with her mouth open when her eyes fall at the woman approaching them.

"Wren!" The taller Doctor calls after her in panicked voice, and Wren from this time notices the audience. She is hardly concerned with them though, there is her doppelganger approaching her.

"Kurdu!" The King's voice is equally happy and terrified. He is looking at his wife trying to evaluate her mood, and she stops a foot away from him.

"Wren, I am Queen Zundushinh, and put it simply you are my later incarnation. And this man is my husband, pretty much your John is his later incarnation. And it all got a bit mixed up, but John loves you, or at least will, and I assure you it's worth it, but you have to go on a date with him tomorrow."

Silence falls over the seven people, the Doctors and River are staring at the modern Wren, the King is still trying to determine whether his wife is discontent with him, while the two redhead are looking into each other's eyes.

The modern one stirs first and points at the King, "That actually makes sense. No way in hell John would be such a great kisser."

"I know, right?" The Middle Earth Wren grins widely, and both women laugh amicably. "He is such a prick, isn't he?"

"Yeah, god, so annoying. I bet he is all dominating and grabby when snogging."

"Oh yeah, they all are at the beginning," confirms the Ancient Wren, "But you just give him time, he'll be purry like a kitten." Her husband looks at her from under a cocked brow, and the Modern Wren giggles.

"The eyebrow wiggling is the same though, and it is bloody brill!" The Ancient Wren laughs nodding.

"Oh you just wait, the other… wiggling is mind-blowing." They roar with laughter, and red spots appear on the King's cheekbones above his beard.

"That's unexpected," the bow tie Doctor's voice is stunned.

"You don't say," the taller Doctor murmurs, and River gives out a throaty chuckle.

"Why was your John… I mean your husband on my lawn at the first place?" The Modern Wren gives him an attentive look over.

"I was supposed..." He starts raspily, but his wife interrupts him.

"Shush, darling, don't add into the aggro you've brewed here, let me explain." Her tone is lilting and slightly sarcastic, and he gives her an indignified look from the ground. He is obviously not used to being shushed. Nonetheless, he stays silent. "There was a misunderstanding, it's a timey-wimey thing, very complicated..." The taller Doctor grins proudly, while the older Doctor rolls his eyes. "But the point is we are here to help you see the potential in your John."

The Modern Wren scoffs disdainfully, "Is there any?"

"I assume you think there is, since I found you snogging my husband senseless," the Ancient Wren narrows her eyes, and the modern redhead blushes headily.

"Oh, I am sorry about that." The Queen hums, but the apology is quite obviously hasn't been accepted. The Modern Wren shifts between her feet uncomfortably, "So what do you want me to do?"

"Give him a chance. Tomorrow, go on a date with him." The Queen steps closer and puts her hand on her modern self's shoulder. "He is worth it, believe me. I know, I married one." The Modern Wren chews on her bottom lip and looks down at the King. He smiles to her uncertainly, and she sighs.

"Alright, I'll trust your judgement."

"Sound choice," the Queen grins and stretches her hand to her husband, "Let's go, my King, our job here is done." The King rises, and they walk towards the two Doctors and River whose faces can only be described as awed.

"Blimey..." The bow tie Doctor exhales, and the other two nod. The Queen passes them, her head set regally, back straight and her curls bouncing.

'"I am ready to go home, Doctor." The taller Doctor rushes to his TARDIS but the door opens on its own.

"What?!" The man with mad hair is staring at his blue police box. "What?!"

"She does like me," the Queen enters the box gracefully, followed by her enlarged husband who looks tired and dishevelled, and the taller Doctor is gaping at his time machine.

"Well, I think that's my cue," River murmurs, "Lovely to see you, sweetie. And you too, pretty boy," she flashes a wide suggestive smile to each of the Doctors, hits the button on her cuff and disappears in a cloud of smoke and sparkles.

"Who was that exactly?" The taller Doctor asks, and the bow tie man flails his arms.

"Spoilers, spoilers!" The other Doctor shrugs and heads towards his box.

"Goodbye, Doctor," he throws his other self a smile over his shoulder, and the other Doctor chuckles.

"Goodbye, Doctor."

The royal couple is kissing in the control room, the King leaning substantially, his hands cupping his small wife's face. She is standing on her tip-toes, her hands buried in his hair, and the Doctor coughs delicately. It has no effect, and he coughs louder. The King moves away from his wife, she slowly opens her eyes, and pressed into his side.

"How's your fabric of reality now, Doctor?" The King asks teasingly, and the Doctor pushes some buttons on the panel and pulls a screen on a mount towards him. The King goes back to showering his wife with kisses and caresses, when the Doctor starts mumbling.

"I don't understand… It's still there… the tear… blimey…." The Doctor pushes both hands into his hair, grabs his mad strands and creates even bigger chaos in his do. "It didn't work! I don't understand!"

"What do you mean it didn't work?" The Queen is looking at him in confusion. "He is head over heels with her, she agreed to go out with him. What else is there to fix?"

"I don't know!" The Doctor roars and starts running around the room, "I don't know!" The royal couple exchanges alarmed looks. The Doctor makes a circle around his console, still ruffling his hair and mumbling, "What did we miss? What is there?... Amrod, Thranduil, can't be, not in this timeline, perhaps Auggie… Auggie makes sense, but he is in Australia… Thea was in place… I don't understand..."

"Doctor," the Queen's voice is calm and commanding, and he freezes staring at her, "When is the tear to happen? Can you see the exact moment?" The Doctor's eyes widen.

"Brilliant! Oh you, you are brilliant!" The Doctor jumps to her, grabs her shoulders and quickly kisses her on the lips. "It's brilliant, we need to find the exact moment and fix..." He doesn't manage to finish his phrase, the King grabs his shoulder and punches him in the face. The Queen shrieks, the Doctor falls, and the King snarls.

The universe might actually be doomed.


End file.
